This letter was soon followed by another,—indeed he wrote me every day,—and he hastened to say:—
"I felt ashamed of my last letter, but the truth is my 'business' is oppressively stagnant—from what particular cause, I cannot conjecture. Whether it be the result of accident, or of causes which portend an ultimate failure, I cannot pretend to affirm. If a breeze does not come soon, I shall be at a standstill. What then? My family is dependent exclusively upon my scant earnings. If they fail, I see no hope in another quarter. This is the apprehension that kills the soul within me. The catastrophe haunts me like a spectre, and clouds my spirit with a perpetual gloom. God only knows what the event will be—but I should not talk in this strain. I shall relax no effort. On the contrary, I never worked as strenuously in my life. God willing, my earnest efforts to subsist my darling family may yet be successful. It is for them I toil, and richly do they deserve every blessing. This thought, above all else, encourages me. May God bless them!
"Devotedly, R. A. P.
"P.S. I see I repeated the sin for which I sought excuses. The present lull in my practice I attribute to the general stagnation of business. Mayhap the breeze will come before long.
"An unwelcome breeze of another kind is now busy near me. An immense fire is raging in rather close proximity to the 'Waverly,' and I have some apprehensions of a move. The Winter Garden Theatre and the Southern Hotel are in flames. How the boys would enjoy the spectacle! I suppose there are fifty steam-engines spouting their streams and thousands of people looking on. To-day, for the first time, we have an indication of approaching spring, and as they are painting my office, I mean to stroll about the city in enjoyment of the sunshine."
He had now lived in New York a year and a half—and had borne the intense heat of summer in the crowded district. Except for one visit to Virginia, and an occasional Sunday to Fordham to visit his old comrade in Congress, Mr. Haskins, he had not left his narrow quarters for any recreation whatever.
CHAPTER XXIX
In April my husband exultantly announced that he had "eight little cases" on the calendar; on May 14 he wrote:—
"I am over head and ears with work, preparing Mrs. —'s case for trial. It is infinitely troublesome; but if I win, my fee will be $2000—otherwise nothing."
He did win! In July he received his fee! Within two weeks I had wound up all my small affairs in Petersburg, kissed "good-by" to my tearful little band of music scholars, sent my Aunt Mary with my Gordon and little Mary to "The Oaks" in Charlotte County to spend the rest of the summer, persuaded my sable laundress, Hannah, that New York was an earthly paradise, and taken passage thither with her and five of my little brood.